


The Troll-Bards of Beleriand

by Toshimasa



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gossip, Letters, M/M, dirty songs, smug Galadriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshimasa/pseuds/Toshimasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For sath, a shot-out to her wonderful story "The Dragon-Helm of Discord" </p><p>Thingol wonders what is more wrong with the Noldor than usual lately.<br/>Galadriel just shows him a letter from her brother that not only explains a few things but also reveals Daeron as not as sophisticated as he likes People to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Troll-Bards of Beleriand

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Dragon-helm of Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256538) by [Sath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/pseuds/Sath). 



> So the wonderful sath has given me permission to write a story about Galadriel showing Finrods letter from her story “The Dragon-Helm of Discord” to Thingol. It should have been finished yesterday, but I got distracted by something shin- a visit from my girlfriend, the idea that “Asylum” and “Stricken” by Disturbed would make wonderful ship-songs for Russingon, and a few other things…  
> Overall I’m just disappointed that it doesn’t seem to hold a candle to sath’s story, but maybe you guys like it anyway.

Mablung and Beleg had brought the mail from Nargothrond. It was their free month and they had volunteered out of sheer boredom. Nobody was surprised about that. They had also brought a lot of juicy Noldor gossip this time, acquired by talking to the messengers they had collected the mail from, but it didn’t seem to make any sense. Thingol furrowed his brow. Maybe it was just some family drama. After all, the lords of the Noldor were all related to each other. He barely suppressed an annoyed sigh. Finwe had just way to many mad children and grandchildren. Whatever had possessed his late friend to go ahead and make all of those, he hoped it was no hereditary trait, even if that already appeared to be a vain hope.

“So, basically the Lord of Himring is travelling around a lot and arguing with his relatives, and that is unusual for him?” He fixed Beleg with a piercing stare.

Thingol and Melian sat on their thrones next to each other, facing Mablung and Beleg. Daeron crouched in a corner idly tugging at his harp and didn’t pay attention at all. The Lady Galadriel however, who had received a letter from her brother trough the bored Marchwardens, sat with Luthien and Melians handmaidens, and she seemed very interested.

“Well my Lord, there is a lot of speculation about what has vexed him so, for he is usually the reasonable diplomat of the family, especially in comparison to his brothers. But nothing I can definitely confirm. The Noldor do seem a little defensive when a Sinda brings up the sons of Feanor and their relationship to the House of Fingolfin, particularly when it is Maedhros. I have no idea why that is the case though, they should be the ones getting along best.”

Thingols brow wandered further up.

“An argument between the most virtuous then?”

He turned around startled when Galadriel could no longer suppress a snorting laugh.

“Pray tell, what is so funny dear niece?”

Galadriel was now laughing without restraint, which was very unusual for the strict, reserved and proud young Lady. She was laughing so hard in fact that she could no longer speak. Instead she staggered towards the king and passed him the newest letter from her brother Finrod. Thingol took it sceptically and read:

 

To my dear sister Galadriel,

I may have done a bad thing.

My good friend Azaghâl asked me if Elves do not embrace one another, wondering if Maedhros has taken offense to being hugged. According to Azaghâl, our comely and flustered cousin said, “That’s my crotch” and did not indicate whether that was a good or bad place for a Dwarven beard. I assure you that I had nothing but Maedhros’s best interests in mind when I told Azaghâl that he and Maedhros were now married. My hope had been to press Maedhros and Fingon into a public confession of love, for they have been married according to the laws and customs of the Eldar for many years—several weddings have occurred in one of my guest rooms, which I have generously never teased them about. Really, I just wanted our family dinners to have less veiled metaphors for sex coming with the pheasant.

I admit that writing “Maedhros Tugs His Beard” was rude, but the rhymes came to me unbidden in the bath and as Daeron once told me, never let a good song go unsung. Maglor has been a traitor to me, and revealed the authorship to his brother. Now Maedhros is taking up a large amount of space in my great hall and cannot be put off for much longer.

Kindly deliver my eulogy, and recommend me as the funniest of the Noldor race.

Love, and my affectionate regards to Thingol and Melian,

Finrod

 

Thingol stared at the letters disbelievingly, wondering if things made more or less sense now, and read it again. And then again. Finally he gave up and passed the letter to his wife.

“’Most virtuous’ indeed” giggled Galadriel and Thingol desperately wished he had still no idea what she was talking about. Or at least that Celeborn was here to distract her. Meanwhile Melian looked up from the letter with an odd expression.

“So… your cousins Maedhros and Fingon are lovers?”

Galadriel made a dismissive gesture. “Of course they are. And everyone knows that, since at least the Thangorodrim-incident, even if it is not admitted in public. I mean my cousins are a little foolish, but none of them would think that a lonely suicide-mission into unknown hostile territory would be helpful diplomacy. None of them is that stupid.”

Beleg and Mablung exchanged a glance that meant both of them were equally curious about that story. It might come in handy if they should ever have to deal with the Noldor again.

“And about Azaghal…” Thingol asked.

“Oh that” Mablung said. “You may not have heard my King, but the Lord of Gostabel has recently been saved from a party of orcs by the Lord of Himring.”

Thingol was familiar with the dwarven custom of showing gratitude and sympathy by embracing each other, even in formal circles. That explained that then. He turned back to Galadriel.

“So your brother told the dwarf lord that elves marry by embracing each other in order to force his cousins to admit openly to a – mildly put – scandalous affair and then wrote a rude song about it?”

“I think ‘rude’ is not the word you are looking for, my king” she remarked dryly. “Knowing my brother, ’dirty’ should describe it better, especially if Maglor has something to do with it.”

“Finrod wrote a dirty song about his cousin and a dwarf?!” Daeron snapped out of whatever musical dream world he had been in.

“Yes, explicitly following your advice to ‘never let a good song go unsung’” Galadriel said. “And I know for a fact that Maglor has done so too, because I have heard ‘Azaghal’s Love Ladder’ at the weaver’s convention, and I’d recognise his style anywhere.”

‘Azaghal’s Love Ladder’ Daeron mouthed disbelievingly and somewhat awed.

“Must be nice to be in love” Luthien chirped absent-mindedly. Nobody paid attention to her, she was not the brightest candle in the holder though nobody would say so if there was a remote chance that Thingol would hear it.

The king rubbed his forehead in resignation. “Noldor.”

Melian appeared somewhat amused. “I admit it is hard to imagine that the Lords of the Noldor would engage in incestuous and otherwise inappropriate relationships and write dirty songs about each other. It seems quite mad.”

“It’s a good thing our people would never do something as disrespectful and frivolous as writing dirty songs about their Lords. That is something I am quite grateful our people never adopted into their customs.” Thingol had his face covered with his hand and could not see Mablung, Beleg, Daeron and Melian’s handmaidens exchange awkward glances.

“As much as I would like to deny it, my family is mad” Galadriel sighed. “But I do take offence to the notion that singing dirty songs about your leaders is a Noldor custom, we learned that from the Sindar.”

Worried silence crept through the room. Even Luthien could read the atmosphere now; she looked around confused, but said nothing. Galadriel however could barely suppress a triumphant grin.

“Daeron” Thingol slowly, darkly began, fixing him with a threatening stare, “do you know anything about dirty songs about, let’s say, me?”

Daeron looked like a cornered rat. “What? No! Of course not, why would I know such a thing, I’m a virtuous minstrel and why would anyone write something like that, I mean…” He broke off, realising that his frantic babbling would only get him deeper into trouble.

“Really? I thought that one song was from you” Galadriel gleefully tattled. “What was its name again? The one where queen Melian sprouts tentacles from her crotch and her fingers to entangle and pleasure her husband… I know, ‘The Shape-Shifting Queen’, that was it. I am reasonably sure that one is yours.”

The look on Thingols face was reminiscent of a dog that had swallowed orc droppings. (That had happened once, as Beleg and Mablung could have told if they weren’t preoccupied with the question whether they should be ready to save Daeron from a murderous king.) Luthien stared horrified for a moment before excusing herself and leaving. Galadriel couldn’t begrudge her, after all nobody wanted to hear about their parents having sex. And there went Daeron’s chances of ever winning her heart.

“Do you think your brother is okay?” Melian hurriedly asked in a pitiful attempt to distract her husband. He didn’t pay attention, but Galadriel answered anyway.

“If Maedhros had done him serious harm, we would know by now. Besides, Meadhros is more intimidating than genuinely dangerous. And whatever he actually did, my brother had it coming.”

“Do you think your cousins could officially get married someday, my lady?” Beleg asked thus succeeding in distracting Thingol from Daeron, though that probably hadn’t been his intent.

“I don’t see why we should care” Thingol snapped.

“Pardon my king, it’s just that I thought it would be interesting to see a Noldor wedding, especially since it would be the first of its kind…” Beleg muttered, not daring to say how fascinated he was by the idea that two males could be meant for each other.

Thingol didn’t seem satisfied by his answer, but chose to say nothing. He did take note though that he now had a volunteer for accompanying Daeron to any major Noldor celebrations.

“Alright” Melian suddenly exclaimed, “this session is closed. Everyone go back to whatever you usually do this time of day” to Daerons silent but overwhelming relief.

Everyone picked up whatever they had with them and flooded out of the room, Galadriel trailing behind a little for she stopped to take the letter back from Melian. As she reached the door Daeron was trying to sneak out just before her, when Melian called him back.

“You stay here, Daeron, and play us that outrageous song of yours!”

Daeron froze, shock and fear on his face, but he obeyed reluctantly, letting Galadriel step past him. She slipped through the door, but then hesitated a moment.

“We have never tried shape-shifting in bed, I am curious what kind of ideas you would have for this” the queen said with a hint of mischief in her voice that sent a shiver down Galadriels spine.

She hastily closed the door behind her, but not before she caught a glimpse of the bizarre mixture of horror and arousal on Thingols face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure what is missing here, but it still was funnier in my head. My girlfriend seemed to like it despite her slightly horrified “what am I reading here” for she concluded “I am more interested in the fandom than in the thing itself” after reading the Dragon-Helm.  
> Well, I promised sath to write a story for her, but it might take a while until I come up with something suitably good. She wished for Elves/Edain cultural differences and I while I know the Finwion family tree up and down and sideways, the Edain (and their part in it) are something of a weak point. Right now my basic ideas are Beor and Hador starting a friendly correspondence or Beor and Finrod attending a Finwion family reunion and Beor being confused about Maedhros’ scars because no other elf seems to have any. Really, right now I could do something more fleshed out about original fiction featuring dragon-human xeno. (I wish I could say that I can’t believe I just said that, but sadly I can.)  
> Until then I am writing a short story about Feanor working on a chariot for archers and Celegorm getting way ahead of him by inventing stirrups and a nonsensical AU where Ulmo tells Turgon that he needs to heal the feud in his family and he persuades Maedhros and Fingon to get caught in public so that their fathers have to talk to each other. May or may not feature Fingon asking Feanor formally for Maedhros’ hand. But sath’s treat will definitely come out before the Harry-Potter-crossover where the Feanorions and the Nolofinwions go to Hogwarts and curbstomp Voldemort and the ridiculously ambitious Post-Canon-Story where everyone returns to Middle Earth.  
> It’s a good thing I don’t have much to do this semester.


End file.
